


The Whole Kitten Kaboodle

by CommanderBayban



Series: Autistic Sixth Doctor [6]
Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Autistic Doctor (Doctor Who), Cats, Conversations, Friendship, Gen, Infodumping, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28986213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderBayban/pseuds/CommanderBayban
Summary: Mel asks the Doctor about his various cat badges and he jumps at the chance to show her his entire collection.(Prompt 11—collection)
Relationships: Melanie Bush & Sixth Doctor
Series: Autistic Sixth Doctor [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003323
Kudos: 5





	The Whole Kitten Kaboodle

Another day, another adventure.

Except this time there wouldn’t be any bloodthirsty plants, maniacal daleks, disillusioned murderers, or anything else that would make one wish they’d thought of their famous last words _before_ death was stalking them from behind. No, today there was another plan on the agenda—having lunch with the one and only Ada Lovelace.

Mel combed through the swathes of hangers and racks strewn in all corners of the TARDIS wardrobe in an attempt to find the perfect Victorian garb that fit her spunky personality. There were plenty of gowns adorned with billowing petticoats and an excess of ruffles, all intended to be worn with a heavily boned corsets to accentuate one’s slimming waistline; poke bonnets with brim lengths ranging from small and dainty to ‘how dare you look upon me’; and shawls of many colours and patterns to politely cover one’s decolletage. They were all very elegant, but much too conservative for Mel, who preferred her clothes splashed with bright polka dots and stripes. And if some alien craft (other than their own, of course) were to land in London with the intent of ruining their day, she at least wanted the _chance_ to run away without having to drag a dress the size of the Eye around.

So Mel continued sifting through gown after gown until she found herself wrist-deep in suit jackets and waistcoats. Now _these_ clothes were more her style! She always did have an affinity for those old daguerreotypes and Kodaks with women asserting their masculinity.

But about five coats in, her interest began to wane. Just as before, she began to lament about the same concerns found in the women's department. Dare she say that she wished to find something as kooky as what the Doctor wore! In this entire section of 1840s attire, how could she not find one item that suited her?

Then, as if by divine intervention, she found an outfit that fit her to a tee: a tan double-breasted jacket with periwinkle-striped lapels and cuffs; a periwinkle shirt to match; and tan trousers.

 _“Perfect!”_ she thought...until, right behind it, she found another ensemble that caught her eye. This time the outfit consisted of a pink coat covered in white polka dots and then the reverse pattern for the trousers. "Aw man." Now she was in a bind.

In front of the body-length mirror, Mel took the role of an animated maneki-neko, swapping out both outfits at least ten times each...but was granted no luck. They both accented her vibrant, curly hair and radiant smile in their own way—how was she to pick just one? In an effort to not waste any more time (it felt like she’d been in there for hours!), she decided to use the ace up her sleeve: a complementary consultation with the TARDIS' resident fashion maven. Surely he’d have an opinion on the subject!

She darted out of the wardrobe and into the console room, but found that the place was completely empty. _"Now where on Earth could he be?"_ And then she remembered how, when meeting anyone of ‘distinction’, the Doctor always took a little extra time to get ready. What this ‘extra time’ consisted of was anyone’s guess, he wore the same uniform regardless if they were meeting Archimedes or a random jogger in Pease Pottage—the only element subject to change was his famous brooch. She wondered just how many he had stashed away. Hundreds? Thousands? Someone of his age and transportation privileges could probably collect every cat pin in existence if they wanted to!

After snaking through the TARDIS labyrinth, where she accidentally took a left instead of a right and wondered why the Doctor’s room had turned into a mile-long herbarium, she reached the private quarters of Mister GQ himself. She knocked politely. Waited a moment. Tapped her foot and stretched her toes. Waited some more...Then knocked again with emphasis.

“Oh, come on, Doctor, I know you’re in there!”

He was, and once he cracked open the door he looked upon his fuzzy-slippered, sleepwear-clad companion with bewilderment. “I thought you were anxiously awaiting your meeting with Ms Lovelace?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Mel furrowed her brow, “What makes you think I’m not?”

“Why, you’re hardly dressed!”

“Well I’m _trying_ , but I’m stuck between these two,” she held up the two colourful choices for the Doctor to inspect. "What do you think?"

The Doctor placed a hand on his hip and, as he honed in his gaze on the composition of each ensemble, he tapped his chin and narrowed his eyes as though he were the reincarnated body of Karl Lagerfeld scrutinising his midinette’s handiwork. They weren't anything he'd wear in a million years, but they were interesting choices indeed—positively fitting for the queen of pep.

After a few drawn out seconds, he pointed to the tan and periwinkle ensemble. “That one,” he said, “The other is much too similar to the outfit you already wear during your late-night Tesco runs. Anyway, I’m sure once Ada begins her grand tour of the Analytical Engine the focus will be completely diverted away from your thread count.”

Mel—disregarding the mildly offensive undertones of his comment—draped the clothes over the crook of her arm, “Oh, I see! Is that why, for our trip to meet all those primatologists in Tanzania, I had to wait a whole extra hour for you to get dressed?”

The Doctor leaned his side against the doorframe, “That was different. Have you not noticed the number of intricate layers that make up my attire? I would have died of heat exhaustion! Not to mention those meddling creatures…” he sighed, “I still mourn that tie.”

Mel couldn’t contain her amusement and burst out in laughter, “Yeah, that baby chimp definitely wasn’t giving that up without a fight! It’s too bad you lost!”

The Doctor scoffed and poked his companion's shoulder in jest, “No thanks to you, Miss Melanie ‘I wish I’d brought my videocamera’ Bush! Now get dressed, we don’t want to leave Ada waiting, do we?”

Mel grinned, “No, we don’t.” But before she could get a decent distance away from the door, the Time Lord beckoned her back with the allure of two cat brooches sitting between both index fingers and thumbs like gold doubloons freshly plucked from the sea floor,

“Which one do you think fits the mood for today, hm?”

~~~~

The sun was still fast asleep when the Doctor and Mel eased their way back into the TARDIS control centre. They hadn’t expected to stay as long as they did under Mrs Lovelace’s wing, but once the Doctor hinted (rather overly) that he was also a great admirer of her father’s poetry, the schedule was set. They spent the day knee-deep in polynomials and punch cards; and the night relaxing around the fire with fine literature.

Through a yawn, Mel commented on how swell and wonderfully uneventful of a day it had been.

"Wasn't that just fascinating, Doctor? It's amazing to see what Ada and Charles were able to accomplish before modern technology...With a few punch cards they were able to create a language capable of calculating logarithms!"

The Doctor entered the coordinates for their next excursion. "It was hardly _a few_ punch cards, but I agree," he said, "I'd like to think that one day people of the future would be saying the same about you!"

"Gosh, me too. Imagine...the Bush Computatron," she declared, spreading her hands into a wide imaginary banner in the air, "A repository of all the knowledge in the universe. You can ask it any question and it'll answer it in real time..."

They continued talking for a bit until Mel checked the time and figured she'd turn in for bed. But then, as her eye glanced over the colourful lapel standing in front of her, she remembered the question she’d forgotten to ask her friend many hours ago: “Doctor, how many cat badges _do_ you have?”

“Oh,” the Doctor set the directions into gear and the TARDIS _vworp-vworped_ and shimmer shimmered into complete evanescence. He pondered the question for a moment, his pupils slowly arcing across the ceiling as if he was mentally counting each species in his head, “A few dozen at least?”

Mel found this to be a very intriguing answer. It wasn't anywhere near her original bet of 'somewhere between 582 and 1018', but, then again, 'a few dozen' could range anywhere from thirty-six to oh...infinity as far as he was concerned.

“I think you should show me your collection later today," she chirped.

“Later?” The Doctor shoved his hands into his pockets and beamed like a newly minted incandescent light, “Why not now?”

Mel tried to stifle another yawn but it slipped past her guard. She quickly covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already?”

“No, Doctor,” she rolled her eyes with an air of facetiousness, “I’m just—”

“Wonderful!” he began to make his exit, “Meet me in the dining room and I’ll be right there.”

~~~~

Soon after, the Doctor arrived swaddling a small box carved out of maple. It sat on four stubby legs and was adorned on each side with floral motifs. On the lid was a vine-patterned border and an array of lightly painted flowers joined together by their leaves. Without causing a scene, he sat the box down on the table and took a seat beside his companion. Inside was an assortment of cat brooches of all shapes, sizes, colours, and makes. Before he started the official showcase, he removed the tall, yellow and black-striped cat who sat valiantly on his coat and added it to the others, where it fell with a dull, metallic _clink_.

Mel's eyes widened as she peered inside the box. It wasn't a very large container, but it was practically filled to the brim with little trinkets.

"I'm sure you expected more?" he insinuated.

Mel felt exposed, but played innocent, "What? No way! If you had, I don't know, 1018 cat badges I would've thought you were weird...er than I thought."

"It wouldn't have been too difficult to amass that number, but my collection is expertly curated. There is a fine line between collecting and hoarding."

“Good point. How’d you start collecting them in the first place?”

The Doctor's face lit up at the thought that his companion _wanted_ him to pull out the old, weathered soapbox. He straightened his posture and spoke as though presenting his wares to fellow enthusiastic members of the public, “I didn’t _intend_ to start collecting, it was more a matter of chance. You see, back at the Academy I had a friend who was just as willing to go against the grain as I was. Her name was Ruath, and she was more interested in her own vampire science than anything on the general lesson plan.

"One day she came to me with a proposition to introduce cats onto Gallifrey. It was a rather impetuous scheme as neither of us had any experience with animal husbandry, but being young and naive I—"

Mel held up a hand and shook her head with shock, “Wait, wait, hold on. _You_ were smuggling cats into Gallifrey? I didn't think you were the type to run a rum running operation!”

The Doctor knitted his brows at the sudden interruption but, upon realising that listener questions equalled listener interest, he quickly resumed his composed state of mind, “They’re only _cats_ , Mel, not mind-altering drugs or invasive plants that ravage entire ecosystems. And what else were two renegade Time Lords supposed to do?”

He searched around the box until he found a little wooden cat painted with uneven scarlet eyes and a dastardly smirk, “So, with our planet successfully evolving into a giant furball, my partner in crime gifted me with this.”

“Oh, it’s lovely," Mel said. She had travelled through time and space more times than she could count and yet, looking at that nine-hundred year old brooch two inches away from her hand, she was struck with the same sense of awe she had as a child browsing through the National Gallery, "How come you never wear it?”

The Doctor's face contorted into a slight grimace as he looked down at the cat whose only detail lied within its expression. And even that screamed 'amateur job', “It’s a bit rustic, don’t you think?” He held the pin up to his yellow lapel, “It would completely clash with my aesthetic.”

Mel refrained from stating the obvious.

He set the pin back with the others and replaced it with the first one he’d ever worn in seriousness—a white ceramic cat with black accents and a bemused twinkle in the eye.

“Centuries ago I happened to be travelling around the universe, as I do, when I stumbled upon the planet of Kolpasha. A hunchbacked haberdasher complimented my state of dress and requested that I employ the tailoring services of their finest fashion house. How they knew I was in the market for more clothing, I'll never know, but after becoming acquainted with their talents I knew it was an offer I couldn’t refuse.

"A few days later when they presented me with the most elegant outfit I’ve ever laid my eyes upon (he poked his rosy cheek and simpered for the nonexistent cameras) they added to my surprise by offering a ‘free’ handmade brooch to go along with it. I believe the other options were a squid, roach, rat,...and something else I can’t recall.”

Mel gagged, “ _Roach_? Why would anyone want a roach on their coat!?”

“They’re very formidable creatures, Mel! Not only have they survived the impact of your planet's ice age and rapid industrialisation, but they outlived the mass extinction that singlehandedly obliterated the dinosaurs!”

"Bleh!" she stuck out her tongue and pointed her thumb downwards, “Thank goodness for bug spray.”

The Doctor felt a heart fall into his stomach. He desperately wanted to correct her with a short and simple 'They’re insects, not bugs. There _is_ a difference,' but didn't want to veer the subject into a discussion about entomology if she decided to enquire about what said difference was. He exhaled softly to himself and tried to forget about the misnomer...

"Anyway, to continue, it wasn’t until my current incarnation when I began to fancy more scintillating things besides yo-yos and leafy vegetables—”

“As we all know," Mel smirked.

The Doctor snapped his head and glared upon his companion with growing irritation. So much for ignoring the little things. “ _Celery,_ ” he began, “Tastes like water trapped within layers of vascular tissue and left to petrify for a hundred years. How you or anyone else thinks chewing on crispy water makes for a fulfilling snack is beyond me.”

“You just haven’t had it prepared properly, that’s all!”

The Doctor stared at her unamused, with his lips set into a hard line, “Yes. I’m sure. Now, can I continue without the constant and irrelevant interruptions?”

Mel did her best model pupil impression by turning onwards and clasping her hands on the table, "Fine. I'll spare you the banter, but I can't not ask questions when they come to me."

He returned their gazes to the next topic at hand: an enamel badge of a white kitten donning a pink bow, which she instantly recognised as Marie from _The Aristocats_. “Because I've made quite a name for myself by wearing these brooches on any given day, I’ve had the honour of receiving many more from those I’d consider great friends. This one, for example, was given to me during Disney World’s opening ceremony in 1972 by none other than Roy Disney himself...To see the children's eyes filled with wonder as they soaked in the magic surrounding them..." he sighed wistfully, "Oh, you should've been there...”

Mel raised her hand and the Doctor snapped out of his nostalgia,

"Yes?"

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but why’d he give it to _you_?”

“ _Someone_ had to be the impromptu creative director of Tomorrowland and who knows more about _tomorrow_ than I do?”

That was more than a satisfactory answer, and because of that, Mel felt compelled to switch gears, "Did you ever see the cryogenic chamber where they keep Walt's head? That's pretty creepy."

He looked at her askew with narrowed eyes. For a woman of science how could she possibly believe in such a tale without any tangible evidence! "You can't be serious?" he suggested.

"Everyone knows about it, so you can tell me if you did!"

The Doctor pursed his lips and darted his eyes left and right to scope out any potential spies in the room. Then, he beckoned Mel close and whispered something in her ear that made her shriek.

"But don't tell anyone!" he entreated.

"Oh gosh, I won't!" She lifted three fingers in the air, "Scout's honour! By the way, can I pick one next?”

The Doctor obliged and his companion waded through the many remaining ornaments flooding the box, “What about this one?”

This time, it was a cat standing on all fours with its tail curved in the air. Compared to the others, this one was particularly colourful, with a leaf mandala pattern of yellow, green, dark orange, and brown. Attached to its prideful chest was a three-dimensional metal cog.

Without speaking, the Doctor took the pin from Mel's grasp and stared at it with such power that his face dropped ten storeys. “This a special one, indeed,” he mumbled, as he ran his fingertip along the dull spokes of the cog and the smooth sides of the cat. Every groove and texture he felt conjured up an old—but not forgotten—memory, “A birthday gift from a dear companion of mine.”

A strong gust of disquietude blew in the room, thick enough to cut through with a knife. Mel frowned at this sudden change of atmosphere, but she knew, because of it, this ‘dear companion’ could only mean one person: “Her name was Peri, right, Doctor?”

Just hearing her name was enough to elicit a sigh. It had been a lifetime since they said their final farewells and yet the memory still stung as though it were yesterday. Wearing the badge only made it worse, and the cat was relegated to the box to live the rest of its days in darkness. But that didn't mean the Doctor couldn't reminisce about the happier times. He'd arrived in Seattle to pick Peri up from another ear-splitting concert of a band who obviously had a stake in flannel and dejection. Little did he know that, two days later, she'd surprise him with the pin she'd bought at an outdoor arts market (and a delightful double-chocolate cake she'd made in the wee hours of the morning!)

A small, breathy laugh escaped the Doctor's lips as the impromptu celebration graced his thoughts, “I’m glad you’ve been paying attention.”

“How couldn’t I? I was there when…,” Mel shook away the remaining words and dug for another badge to hopefully lighten the mood again. This time, she chose a long, thin cat plated in gold and with two emeralds in place of eyes. There was no mouth, though, which she found rather odd. She questioned this and, instead of telling her the reason, the Doctor simply plucked it from her hand and soon a downturned mouth appeared to match its languid eyes.

Mel blinked, “Did that just move or am I more exhausted than I thought?”

“Just like the TARDIS, this brooch and I are isomorphically linked." The cat’s face rose until it was set into a firm look of bittersweet contentment, “It senses shifts of my mood through the syntropic crystals in its eyes.”

“So it’s like a more accurate mood ring! You know, I swear those things never worked right. Every time I put one on it would stay at the same blue colour regardless of how I felt.”

“What does blue mean? I’m sure it doesn’t mean depressed?”

“No, no. It means calm and happy. But I wore one during the most intense week of final exams I’ve ever had and it still stayed that same colour!" She shook her head, "That’s what I get from thinking a cheap ring from a gumball machine would have any scientific basis.”

The Doctor shrugged, “Maybe it wasn’t a _mood_ ring so much as a _soul_ ring? I don’t think there’s a single person on this side of the galaxy more chipper than you.”

“Aw, thanks Doctor,” Mel remembered the compliment he'd made to her earlier and felt her face flush. That was one thing she admired about him: even though his words could scorch paper, they could also warm hearts, “So how’d you get a hold of this one?”

He continued with his explanation, “I found it on Bubasti V, a planet where they venerate felines to a higher degree than their own kind. As you know, if I catch a glimpse of a decent bazaar, I can’t help but peruse the wares—this trip was no different. After looking through lovely pieces of glassware and tapestries, I came across a stall where a woman was making these brooches. ‘Only two left’ she told me, in her frail voice, 'I'd only made five.' When I tell you I almost fainted from hearing the price...a spur of the moment purchase that was not!

"I asked her if she would make more after the two had sold and she told me ‘absolutely not’. Apparently the amount of labour and resources she put into making them was not conducive to mass production. In other words, I was left at a crossroad."

Mel kept her attention focused on the Doctor and the Doctor alone, "Then what happened?"

"I left it. Evelyn and I had arrived there for business we hadn't yet tended to and I couldn't make a decision that quickly." He set the badge on the table and the mouth vanished without a trace, "Looking back, it's hard to believe that I mulled over it as long as I did. I admit that the entire time I was away from its sight my mind couldn't stop perseverating over the thought that someone might have bought the remaining two...," He shook his head with shame, "Luckily when we concluded our business the old woman was still there. 'I knew you'd come back,' she said, waving her bony finger in the air."

"I bet Evelyn couldn't believe that you were considering abandoning that cat!"

"And you'd be right. Evelyn took one look at them and she insisted that I buy one right then and there. I haven’t regretted it since!”

“That reminds me of when I discover a new programming language. I ask myself, ‘do I really need to learn _more_?’ and the answer’s always yes. I used to joke that I’m more fluent in binary than I am in English!”

“Which captivated Davros’ tarnished old heart!”

"You act as though he has one to begin with!" Mel joked, and they both shared a laugh. Then, as the Doctor searched for the next badge, Mel twirled a long strand of hair between her fingers and looked thoughtfully at the horizon, “Hey, Doctor, do you think I add the time I spent on Lethe to my CV or would that be too much?”

The two continued going through each of the badges. Not all of them warranted explanations, but the Doctor insisted on describing each one regardless if they were bought on a whim for 50p in a corner store or if it was given to him by a two-headed dragon who was determined to raze a village because of a splinter in its paw.

Mel was so engrossed by their conversation that she’d forgotten all about the time and her own bodily clock. It was always fun to have a casual conversation with the Doctor; his stories always made her grateful for the time she'd spent aboard the TARDIS. The unbelievable tales of travelling to foreign planets and meeting famous citizens of history weren't limited to just him; once she decided to disembark, she'd have hours worth of stories to tell too. Would anyone believe her? Maybe. Maybe not. But they were fine stories that would entertain nonetheless.

When everything was said and done, the Doctor began tucking each pin back in their proper spot. Despite their long day and longer late-night conversation, he continued to pack his collection away in a slow and meticulous manner. Then there was his arrow-like posture and resolute expression which was a stark contrast to Mel, whose yawns were becoming more and more frequent. “Which one was your favourite?” he asked.

Mel rose from her seat and scrunched her face at such a question. How could anyone decide? She could think of at least five that she wouldn't mind pilfering for her own stash of accessories. Each cat had a personality of their own along with a history that was unique to them and them alone. Can a parent choose their favourite child when they're all wonderful in their own way?

“Well...if I _had_ to choose, hmm, probably the bedazzled onyx kitty playing the saxophone—the one you got from Zazz? Now that was one cool cat!”

“Now that reminds me of the Lorduke’s parting words that day...What was it, again?" The Doctor tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table as he recalled that hip and swinging party he'd attended with Peri and Frobisher. The music was pounding at such an intensity that no one needed anything more than a solid beat to get their spirits high and grooving.

"Oh yes, he said it was given to me 'from one cool cat to another, _ya dig?’_ " The last two words were said at such an exaggerated staccato that Mel couldn't help but snicker, "A rather odd thing to say as there weren’t any shovels around.”

Mel slapped her face with her hand and shook her head at his unexpected naivety. "You're too much, Doctor," she said. He may be _hep_ to the Oxford English Dictionary, but when it came to jivetalk he was a surefire square. “Anyway, I’ve got to get to bed. We’ve got a busy day today.”

He set the last badge inside the box and shut it with a soft _thud_ , “Oh?”

“Yep! I’ve just remembered a scrumptious celery recipe I learned in uni and there’s no way _you’re_ getting out of trying some!”

The Doctor thought back to his ingenious invention that, in a matter of minutes, persuaded Peri to ease back on the South Beach Diet...For whatever reason, he hadn't yet tried it on Mel. And there was no time like the present!

He turned to her and smiled.


End file.
